Tempestas
by indismero
Summary: After failing to defeat Alduin in several other universes, the last Dragonborn receives one final chance from the Gods to make things right and slay the World-Eater in another parallel, alternate reality. The responsibility falls to Indis Mero, again, to gather the Blades, destroy the rekindled Dragon Cult, and kill Akatosh's first-born once and for all. In-game quests altered.
1. Chapter 1

_**tempestas: latin for storm, tempest, bad weather**_

_**Extended Summary:** There are many parallel universes that the Dragonborn exists in, and although there are many differences between all of them, they all have one thing in common: the last Dragonborn has never succeeded in slaying the World-Eater. Threatened by his growing power after devouring countless souls and worlds, Aedra and Daedra combine forces to guide Indis Mero along on her journey, in hopes that Akatosh's rogue creation will be slain once and for all. This story begins several months after Indis discovers that she is the Dragonborn at the Western Watchtower in Whiterun. Instead of heeding the Greybeard's call to High Hrothgar, she flees, avoiding responsibility. However, one cannot run from fate forever, and it is time for her to embrace her role as Dovahkiin, to hopefully succeed where she has failed many times before._

_Although this story will focus on her role as Dragonborn and the Blades, it will not follow the main questline from the game. Any quests from the game that are used will be altered in some way, shape, or form. This ties into my story, **In the Sun**, and is the sequel to that work. It is not absolutely necessary to read that work before this one, however, but if you have any questions, feel free to message me._

**_Disclaimer:_**_ The only thing that belongs to me is the delightful little Indis Mero. All of the rest belongs to the wonderful Bethesda Softworks._

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

It had been a good night and even though she trudged back into Riftweald with eyelids heavy and worn-down bones, Indis couldn't help but feel immensely satisfied with herself.

She dropped her satchel down on the floor, and out tumbled silverware, loose gems and gorgeous, glimmering necklaces and rings, all spilling out in a jumble. She knelt down, carelessly shoving the gems and jewels back inside, smiling when the gold and silver caught in the early morning light. They'd fetch a decent price and she could finally get around to replacing all of the broken chests in the practice room. However, at that particular moment, breakfast and sleep were all that were on her mind. Having a stern word with Thrynn about kicking the practice chests to Oblivion every time he broke a lockpick could wait. She kicked off her boots and pushed them to the side with one foot, continuing on her way to the kitchen.

After snatching an apple off the counter, she slid into a chair at the table, taking a large bite out of the fruit in her hand. She chewed slowly, savoring the way the crisp, bitter fruit tasted on her tongue and propped her elbows up on the hard wood of the table. The house was deafeningly quiet. It felt far too empty and large and it had been that way for months. She was having trouble adjusting to the wide, painfully silent space around her. Pushing the unpleasant thoughts out of her mind, she turned her attention to the pile of unopened messages that she had been ignoring for the past two weeks, sweeping them towards her with one arm.

Indis sighed, picking up letter after letter, leafing through the wrinkled and worn slips of paper, tossing each one aside after a brief inspection. She paused, running the pad of one thumb over the brittle wax seal of the letter that was currently resting in her hand, before throwing it down to join the others. It was yet another letter from Balgruuf, no doubt urging her to make the trek up to High Hrothgar or to at least visit him in Whiterun for even _more_ counsel. She had ignored the letters he sent to Lakeview and she would continue to snub the letters that he sent to Riftweald. The Guild had been her focus for the past seven months and it would stay that way for a while. She flicked through the rest of the stack, grimacing when she came across more invitations from Siddgeir for intimate dinners and grinning when she reached more letters from Serana. With a smile that continued to spread across her face, she set the letters from Serana aside. After breakfast and a nap, she'd respond to her friend. As she shoved them away, the folded piece of parchment that had been resting at the bottom of the stack, brushed aside for months on end, caught her attention just as it did every time.

Reaching out, her slim fingers traced the folds in the paper, hovering over her name written across the front. She knew what was inside. She had read it dozens of times before. She could even recite the words from memory and she found herself unfolding it for what must have been the hundredth time to read its contents again. There was always one word, written with a flourish, which her eye was always drawn to.

_Divorce._

The arching, looping lines of his signature swept across the bottom of the page and seeing it brought back months-old feelings of rage and frustration to the surface. It was getting harder for her to remember his face. When she closed her eyes and wracked her brain, sometimes she could recall long, grey ears that sloped upwards into sharp points, salt and pepper stubble lining a strong jawline and burning red eyes, but as time marched on, those became fuzzy and blurred. The memories that had once been pleasant and joyful were now tainted with anger and bitterness. She knew that all she needed to do was sign it and return it to Maramal at the Temple and it'd be done, but despite the task's simplicity, she found herself avoiding it. Indis threw it aside, choosing to ignore it yet again. Turning away from the table, she pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed away furiously and closed her eyes as though the simple action would erase all memory of the letter, of him, from her memory.

Trudging away from the cluttered table she headed towards her bedroom, heaving a sigh of relief when she saw the large, welcoming bed. The bright rays of sun that filtered into the window stretched across the fluffy blankets, bathing them in light the color of molten gold and she tumbled forward into the enticing, downy heaps of fabric, not even bothering to remove her Guild armor. She pulled the quilts around her small body, forming a warm, taut cocoon. It was time for blessed, beautiful sleep. _Finally_.

She was seconds away from dozing off when the sound of someone pounding on her door jerked her out of her pleasant daze. Throwing off the blankets, she flung herself out of bed and stormed to her back door. Flinging the door open, she gave a loud groan when she saw that Thrynn was the source of the obnoxious hammering.

"What do you want? I'm tired. I don't want to fuck right now."

He frowned and folded his arms over his chest, giving a loud snort. "Why d'you think that every time I'm here it's to fuck you?"

Indis sighed, motioning for him to come inside. "It's because that's the only thing you have _ever_ come here for. Now, what do you want?"

"There's somethin' you ought to see right now. It's important."

"You need to tell me more than that. That's the exact same thing you said when you drew nipples on the statue of Nocturnal that's down there. I'm not running down there to look at a cock you've drawn on her, Thrynn."

She turned on her heel to leave but Thrynn's strong grip around her arm stopped her. "It ain't that. Just come there, and well… it's about Mercer."

Her eyes widened and she froze. "What? Why didn't you say anything? Thrynn! What's going on with Mercer? Why didn't you tell me right away?"

He tugged her closer, his grip slackening so that he could slide one hand up underneath her umber cuirass. "Maybe I was hoping to get a little somethin' first."

"Oh, fuck off," she grumbled, swatting him away. She knelt down, snatching her boots off the floor, struggling to maintain her balance as she hopped and swayed on one foot, tugging them on. "You've got no sense of tact or timing, you know that right?"

He shrugged, hands falling away from his belt buckle. "Suit yourself. I can wait."

"Fine, later," she sighed, throwing the door open again. Stepping out into the brisk air, she unconsciously shivered, watching as the foggy tendrils of her breath swirled and unfurled in front of her face. "Let's go."

* * *

Huddled in a quiet, hushed mass around her desk was the Guild and as she and Thrynn approached, they turned to face them. Brynjolf waved her over, the gesture frantic and urgent. The small crowd parted and she found herself staring at a small note lying smack dab in the middle of the desk, pinned to the wood with a sleek steel dagger.

She wrapped her fingers around the hilt, glancing down at the slip of parchment. Scrawled across it in a familiar neat, jagged script that nearly made her heart stop was her name. Five thin, blocky letters that made her eyes grow wide, suck in air sharply through gritted teeth, and flex her quaking fingers. Yanking hard, she pulled the weapon out and wriggled it to shake the note loose before passing the weapon off to Karliah. She retrieved it from the position on the desk it had fluttered down to and after flipping it open, she was greeted with one word.

"Well," she began, watching as her fellow Guild members leaned in, watching with bated breath. "It looks like we're going to have to make a trip to High Rock. Daggerfall, if you want to get specific."

* * *

_A/N: Ah, here it is! The first chapter of the rewrite. I hope you're enjoying things so far. At the end of In the Sun, Mercer was still out there, ready to wreak havoc and make more messes for the Guild, and Indis had just made the unpleasant discovery that she was Dragonborn. Looks like that crotchety Breton thief gave her the perfect excuse to avoid responsibility, eh? _

_I would like to say a special thanks to Kira Mackey, SkyrimJunkie, and Child of Sithis for helping me out on this story so much. These three ladies are super awesome and rad, and I can't even begin to express my appreciation for them. Child of Sithis gets cookies and a high-five for going through and giving me some nitpicky criticism as my beta to help make this thing even better!_

_Well, anyway, thank you so much for reading this and bearing with me throughout this process. You're all wonderful! :3_

_Also, if you're a fan of Dragon Age, I'm considering writing about my Warden. There's a poll on my profile page where you can vote to show your interest (or disinterest!)._


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

The finger pressed against Brynjolf's lips and the wide-eyed, frantic look he gave her sent the message loud and clear. _Quiet, Indis, or you'll be discovered._

Indis was frozen in the small study's corner, biting her lip, holding her breath, desperately hoping that the servant who had just entered to retrieve something didn't see her. The angle she was holding her leg at caused her ankle to twitch and as she shifted to readjust her leg, the floorboards beneath her let out an obnoxiously loud creak. _Shit._

The serving girl's head snapped towards the corner, her eyes narrowing as she searched for the source of the sound. Indis reached for the dagger she had strapped to the inside of one ankle, her movements slow and deliberate. She didn't want to make even more noise to draw attention to her location, but she needed her weapon. Just in case.

After a few seconds of silent staring, the servant girl gave a lazy shrug before picking up the platter she had come for. No doubt she had told herself that it was simply the sound of the house settling, or her imagination, or any other number of excuses. Whatever it was, it was a relief. Once she had made her exit, and the door to the study had softly clicked shut behind her, Indis and Brynjolf gave a collective sigh of relief.

"That was close, lass," he groaned, stepping out of the shadows and into the candlelight. "Let's try to avoid more of that in the future, eh?"

"Sounds good to me," she replied, setting down her knapsack with a sigh. Once her dark boots were kicked off and her cowl had been removed and tossed aside, she knelt down to rummage through her pack. "Oh, wonderful, it's wrinkled," she lamented, pulling out the burgundy silk dress that Karliah had picked out for her. "I can't walk into a party with a wrinkled dress."

"Well, like it or not, that's what's happening." Brynjolf folded his arms over his chest and turned away to give her a bit of privacy. After standing still for a few seconds, he made his way over to the large desk that was covered with neat stacks of paper and began leafing through them, careful to leave everything as he found it. "You remember the plan, right?"

Nodding and rolling her eyes, she smoothed down her dark brown, mussed up hair, absentmindedly flicking at a strand that had fallen into her face. She studied it in the dim light, pleased with the way that the golden glow brought the deep chestnut color to life. Brushing it aside, she continued with the task of wrestling the tight dress onto her tiny frame. "I do, I do. I need to get in there, find this Titus Vallianus fellow and then get him back in here somehow."

"Make sure he's alone and make sure it's clear to all of his staff, guards and guests that he's coming willingly."

"I know." She gave a grunt as she cinched up one of the large, lacy bows that were on the dress' waist, silently contemplating the plan. Karliah had known this Titus Vallianus when he was a contact for the Guild, recalling that he was a good friend of Mercer back in the day. After doing a little digging and very, _very_ carefully tracing Mercer's steps back to High Rock, the Dunmer woman had found that Mercer was still in close contact with the wealthy Imperial smuggler who had retired to Daggerfall in his old age. The Dunmer Nightingale had insisted that if anyone knew where Mercer was hiding, it was Titus.

"Ah, excellent," Brynjolf whispered, a smile spreading across his face as he delicately pulled at a slip of parchment tucked underneath a book. He unfolded it, nodding in satisfaction as he read. "This is most definitely Mercer's handwriting, lass," he continued, waving it at her. "Unfortunately, there's nothing useful in here."

"That's a shame. At least we know that Karliah's lead about them still being in contact wasn't a dead-end."

"True, we should be grateful for that. Now, do you remember what this Titus fellow looks like?"

Indis grinned, recalling the small sketch Karliah had shown them. "Oh, I definitely do. I don't think I could miss him if I tried."

"Good," he said, reaching down to help her smooth out more wrinkles in her dress. "Now get to it. I'll be waiting back here."

* * *

Finding her way out to the bustling party in the main area of the sprawling mansion hadn't been too difficult and once she stepped out and blended into the throngs of guests, she gave a tiny sigh of relief. Dodging the guards that patrolled the maze of hallways in a loud, swishy dress hadn't been the easiest of tasks. She came to a stop by a long mirror hanging on the wall, taking a few seconds to make sure she was presentable. She had inspected herself once using the mirror in Titus' study, but it couldn't hurt to make sure she still looked presentable. She attempted to smooth down the fly away strands of dark brown hair that jutted out at odd little angles, pinched her cheeks to bring some out some red on her bronze, freckled skin and her green eyes couldn't help but glare at the long, jagged scars that raced down her left cheek and part of her lip. Once she was semi-satisfied that she looked decent enough, Indis continued on her mission to find her target. After a few seconds of scanning the crowd, her efforts were rewarded.

Titus Vallianus was a short, portly man dressed in some of High Rock's most gaudy finery and Indis tried to stifle a giggle as she watched him twirl one end of his waxed mustache between the tips of two fingers. She approached slowly, taking in the pathetic wisps of hair that struggled to cover his balding pate and the salt and pepper beard that had been shaped into a sharp, triangular point. Chubby, swollen fingers traced the rim of his goblet, the stacks of rings glittering in the light.

_This should be fairly easy._

"Lord Vallianus?" she sighed, breezing past the nobleman that had been chatting with him about business, extending her hand delicately. "Oh, I've heard so much about you, and I must say, this is a delightfully wonderful opportunity to actually meet you in person," she purred, wrapping one hand around his arm. From the way that his eyebrows shot upwards and his jowls quivered with excitement, she was already halfway there.

_That was almost too easy._

"Forgive me my dear, but I do not believe we have met." He turned away from the greying Nord he had been talking to, shoving his goblet into a passing servant's hands. "I'm quite certain we haven't. I would remember one as lovely as you. What is your name?"

"Oh, my lord, you do make me blush," she giggled, fluttering her eyelashes. She was probably overdoing it, but he didn't seem to notice, or to care. She faltered, hesitating briefly as she considered his question. She certainly didn't want to give him her real name and she scrambled to create an alias on the spot. "Leandra Sero, just the daughter of a simpler merchant, wishing to pursue the same ventures," she replied, the words spilling out before she could stop them. Leandra, after a kindly old servant of her father's back in Bravil, and Sero after, well… _him_.

"Leandra, what an absolutely beautiful name; I should say that it suits you," he added. He gave her a lusty wink and Indis fought against the violent urge to retch. "Now, what can I do for you this evening, my dear?"

Regaining her composure, she gave him what she hoped was a mischievous half-smile and not a grimace. "I was hoping to get some tips from a successful businessman. I do wish for my business ventures to take off," she sighed, sticking out her lower lip in a tiny pout. "Might we find somewhere a little more private to talk?"

* * *

Steering him back towards the study had proven to be a much more arduous task than Indis thought it would be. The man seemed dead-set on getting her into his bedroom, but she managed to guide him, not too insistently she hoped, back towards the direction of his study with promises of what would come after.

"Ah, here we are," he said, flinging open the door and ushering her inside. He shut the door behind them and as soon as he turned around, his eyes widened in shock. "What in the name of—"

Whatever he had been about to say was abruptly cut off as Brynjolf swooped down out of the shadows with a thin linen cloth ready to be used as a gag. The material slipped over his head easily, settling down in between his teeth and the heavyset Imperial man struggled for less than a minute before he quickly wore himself out.

"How do we want to do this, lass?" Brynjolf murmured, muscles tensing as he held their target still, watching as she dragged a chair out to the center of the room and waited patiently by it with folded arms. "We can't have this taking too long. He'll eventually be missed, and someone will come looking for him."

"Agreed," she replied, patting the empty leather seat, running her hand over the smooth material. "Bring him over here, and we can get started." As soon as Brynjolf had deposited Titus in the seat, no easy task given that the man had begun wriggling again, Indis whipped out the dagger that had been discreetly tucked in the lacy sash at her waist and pressed it against the vulnerable, tender flesh of the man's bare throat. She briefly thought of calling Brynjolf over to bind the man's hands, but after glancing at the sweaty, sausage-like digits that were shaking, she pushed the thought aside. Not that he could do much without a weapon, anyway. "I'm going to take out that gag now. If you scream for help, Divines help me; I will slit your throat. Understood?"

It was an empty threat but Titus didn't know that. He nodded frantically, wide eyes practically bulging out of his skull. Once the gag had been sliced away he gasped for air, licking his lips. "W-why have you brought me here? W-w-what do you want from me?"

"We have information that has led us to believe that you know where Mercer Frey is," Indis began, jabbing Titus in the chest. "Tell us where he is."

"Mercer Frey? I-I don't know that name, I've… I've never heard it before," he responded, beginning to breathe louder. He pulled out the handkerchief that had been nestled away in the pocket of his waistcoat, beginning to delicately dab at the beads of sweat springing up on his brow. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you."

"Stop lying to us," Indis hissed, pressing the razor-sharp blade against his neck a little more firmly.

"I'm not lying, I don't know why you think that I—"

His words dwindled away into silence as Brynjolf leaned over him, brandishing one of Mercer's letters in his face. "Does this look familiar?"

Titus' eyes darted up, flicking between the rogue's face and the letter. He let out a sigh, continuing to wipe away the signs of his unease. His shoulders slouched forward and his brow furrowed as he contemplated his response. "Ah, oh, _that_ Mercer Frey."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Indis replied, easing up with the dagger. She knew that he would break sooner or later, but she hadn't expected it to be that easy. "Tell us where he is, and we'll be on our merry way, and you can get back to your fancy little party. Sound like a good deal?"

He nodded, his impressively large chin jiggling with the frantic movement. "He's hiding in a warehouse, out on the southwestern side of the city. It's not too far from the cemetery. Here, I'll even draw you a map," he offered, gesturing to the inkwell and quill that were resting nearby. "J-Just don't tell him that it's me that told you, all right?"

"Fair enough, we can do that," Indis agreed, brushing past him to retrieve the necessary materials for him to make a map. "Although, once we're done, I don't think anybody will have to worry about Mercer any longer."

Titus accepted the quill, inkwell, and parchment with a raised eyebrow, unfurling the rolled parchment on the table next to him. He dipped his quill into the ink, tapping it off before setting to work. After several minutes of nothing but the faint sound of the quill scraping across parchment, he held out a crudely drawn map for them to inspect.

"That 'X' is where the warehouse is," he said, a trembling hand jamming the stopper back into the inkwell. "You have your directions, now may I go?"

"I feel a little bad for this, especially since you were so cooperative," Indis sighed, popping the cork out of a murky green bottle in her hand. What had once served as a gag was quickly doused in a thick, gooey liquid. "However, we can't risk having you run off to warn Mercer that someone's coming for him, or to send for your guards. Our apologies."

* * *

"Oh, Dibella's tits he is _heavy_," Indis gasped, breathing heavily as she and Brynjolf dragged the stout man over towards a nearby wardrobe. After the effects of the potion Indis had shoved in his face had gone to work, they had quickly agreed that leaving him unconscious and out in the open wasn't the best idea and had decided that shoving Titus into the large piece of furniture would keep guards away from discovering him; for a while, at least. "Do you think he'll even fit in there?"

"He'd better," Brynjolf grunted, pausing to adjust the massive sweaty man who was quickly sliding out of his grasp. "Otherwise, I've no idea what to do with him."

Indis threw his arm off from around her shoulders, cringing when the cool air hit her bare neck and shoulders. Titus was a sweaty man, and during the process of dragging him about, much of it had transferred to them. She flung open the doors of the furniture, stepping back to help Brynjolf with the task of shoving him inside. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully fumbling about, they finally succeeded in pushing him into the heap of fur cloaks and ornate walking sticks. Brynjolf quickly threw the wardrobe's doors shut and Indis wasted no time in closing the latch. After they had both let out a loud, heaving sigh, they turned to each other.

Brynjolf ran one hand down over his face before reaching up to rake it through his hair. "Well, that was disgusting. At least we got what we needed. Come on, we need to get out of here before someone comes looking for him." Indis turned towards the mirror that stretched out along one wall, taking in her sweat-drenched dress, flushed face, and messy hair. The sound of voices from the nearby hallway jerked her out of her self-examination and she groaned as she looked down at her dress. As much as she wanted to change back into her armor, there wasn't enough time. The longer they dawdled, the higher the risk of being caught. Leaving through the front door in that state would certainly draw some attention. The window would have to do.

Brynjolf unlocked the latch and threw the massive window open, slinging his legs over the windowsill before offering her a hand. "Come on, lass. We can climb down the trellis that we used to get in here and I think we can find a way out through one of the back gates."

Indis clambered down after him, cursing when the slick soles of her slippers nearly gave way, almost sending her tumbling down on top of him. She gave a quick glance down towards him and saw that he was waiting with outstretched arms, reading to help her down. A few more steps down the iron curls, taking great care not to catch her feet in the vines that snaked around the twisted metal and crawl upwards, and she was close enough to make the short leap towards him. She made the little jump and once her feet were planted firmly on the ground, she whirled around.

"Wonderful," she muttered, reaching for both of the daggers that were tucked away on her figure.

One of the estate's guards patrolling the gardens had apparently noticed the pair of mysterious figures that were climbing down from his lord's study window and had called over a few of his fellow guardsmen while they were occupied.

The formidable man standing in front of them moved forward, arms crossed and mouth open, clearly ready to say something. Whatever his intentions were, they were abruptly cut off by the arrow that whizzed through the air, embedding itself in his throat. He staggered forward with a choke and a gurgle, frantically clutching at the shaft of the arrow, and his fellow guardsmen wasted no time in springing to action around him.

_Thank you, Karliah_, was the silent bit of gratitude that she directed towards her fellow Nightingale, grateful that the Dunmer woman was the one who had offered to keep watch from a hidden perch on the estate's walls. Taking care not to trip over her gown she lunged forward, seeking the weak spots in one of the guard's armor. Her foe was much larger than she was, but she made up for the difference in size with speed; she deftly dodged the broadsword that came down in a sweeping arc towards her head, skirts swirling around her, gold accents catching in the moonlight, as she spun around, her foot shooting out to trip him. She caught him on his ankle and he fell backwards, sword flying out of his hands as he tumbled backwards, landing flat on his back. Indis pounced, flipping the daggers in her hands before plunging them into his neck. Yanking them out, she stood, satisfied to see that Brynjolf and a distant Karliah had taken down the two other guards.

"Come on," she whispered, jerking her head towards the rusted gate that was tucked away at the back of the garden. "We need to get out of here before someone discovers our trail of bodies." She swallowed the lump in her throat, turning away from them. She _had_ hoped they would slip in and out of the estate without taking any lives. Unfortunately, tt appeared that option was not in the cards for them.

Brynjolf took off at a full sprint and Indis followed suit, kicking off the delicate slippers she wore. She winced when her bare feet made contact with the sharp pebbles below, and she ended up darting after him in an awkward, waddling run, letting out grunts of pain with nearly every step, wishing that she had taken the time to change.

"What's the plan now?" The soft thud of a landing met their ears, and both Indis and Brynjolf glanced back to see Karliah in step behind them, having leapt down from the wall. "Did the tip about Titus pay off?"

"It did, Karliah. Good thing you remembered him as one of Mercer's old friends and contacts. We need to leave. We can think of a plan once we're off the grounds," Indis gasped, chest heaving. Running and fighting in big, frilly ball gowns was incredibly tiring. Planning things was even more tiring, and ever since they had left Riften several weeks ago, they'd been doing things on the fly.

Brynjolf held up a hand, motioning for them to hold back so that he could kick off the old lock on the gate. Once he had done so and their exit was open, he spoke. "We need to check up on this information that Titus gave us," he whispered, waving the roll of paper clutched tightly in his hand. "The sooner, the better."

"Agreed. It's a shame those guards had to come along," Karliah sighed, shaking her head.

"It is, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time," Indis sighed, hoisting the skirts of her now muddied dress up even further. She looked down, sighing when she saw the blood that had been added to the mix of sweat and mud. "If only they hadn't been there… unfortunately, nothing we can do now."

Karliah, who had easily raced past her companions, came to a stop in a small moonlit alleyway, turning back to squint at the estate they had left behind. "It doesn't look like anyone is following us, so I think we can stop running now."

"When do we want to go after Mercer?" Brynjolf asked, trotting off after the two women. "Indis, since you're Guildmaster, it's your decision."

She gnawed on her lip quietly, considering the possibilities. "Tonight," she replied firmly. After a passing glance between each other, Brynjolf and Karliah nodded. "We'll go tonight."

* * *

Finding the warehouse that Mercer was supposedly sequestered away in had turned out to be surprisingly difficult due to the state of the map that they had been given. Lumpy blocks and squiggly lines were all that led to the telltale 'X' located in one corner, and after they had packed up their belongings at the local inn and changed into the dark, midnight leather of a Nightingale, they set out to find his hiding place. After an hour of wandering, several wrong turns, and a frustrated argument after winding up back in their starting place at the inn, they arrived.

"It's quiet here," Indis noted, squinting in the pale moonlight that stretched across the empty lot in front of them. "It looks like this place is abandoned," she muttered, continuing forward, grimacing when her foot landed in another mud puddle.

"It probably has been that way for a while," Karliah mused, brushing aside the tall, scraggly weeds that were hindering their progress. "This is definitely the kind of place that Mercer would hide away in."

"I hope Titus wasn't lying," Brynjolf mumbled, offering something besides the monotonous crunch of gravel to break the silence. Once they arrived at the entrance of the large structure, he rubbed away at one clouded window, peering inside. After surveying the small room beyond the door, he jerked it open, and they all winced at the loud, grating creak that echoed through the chilled night air. "Another false lead and I'll lose my mind."

"You and the rest of us," Indis muttered, as she followed him inside, wrinkling her nose as soon as the dank, putrid smell of the warehouse invaded her nostrils. "Let's get some light so we can see." Wriggling the fingers of an outstretched hand, she closed her eyes and concentrated, pulling thoughts of bright, soothing light to the front of her mind. Magicka flowed from her core and down to her fingertips and she pushed it outwards, and after a few seconds, a small ball of light floated upwards, hovering above their heads. They blinked furiously and squinted, scrunching up their faces as they adjusted to the light. "There we go, that ought to do it. I'll have to recast it, though. It never lasts long."

"Lead the way," Karliah whispered, low husky voice surprisingly calm. "I'll watch from the rear."

Indis nodded, setting off towards the narrow hallway, the room's only option for delving further into the building. She plodded along carefully, silently, with her companions close behind, occasionally pausing to recast the simple light spell. Several minutes passed before she came to a stop, raising a hand to signal to Brynjolf and Karliah that they should hang back. She knelt down, inspecting the thin tripwire which stretched from one wall to the other. "There's a trap here," she called back, looking up at the ceiling. "It's one with blades, just from the look of it. Be careful, and make sure to not catch your foot on it." She stepped over the wire, taking off once again after both of her fellow Nightingales had done the same.

"Why is Mercer setting traps? It seems like he wouldn't have us run all the way out here to Daggerfall just to get sliced up or thrashed by something. Well, something other than him, that is," Brynjolf whispered.

"He probably wants to wear us down, not kill us. The traps are distractions, likely meant to throw us off," Karliah responded. "We should keep moving. Good eye, Indis. I'm glad you're in the lead."

They continued in silence, each of them vigilantly watching for more traps, trying to keep their minds off of Mercer, and trying to not think about what they would find at the end of the long passageway. After rounding yet another, dusty, cobweb-ridden corner, they stepped out into a large area with piles of crates scattered about. Moonlight beamed down through the wide slats in the ceiling, and the trio surveyed the area, unnerved by the poor lighting and dust motes flitting through the air that obscured the wide space. Indis opened her mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off as a large, metal gate came crashing down over the door to the hallway they had just stepped out off, blocking off their only exit. Brynjolf darted over and wrapped his hands around the grimy black bars, rattling it furiously before attempting to lift it up. After several seconds of straining and trying, he turned back to them and shook his head. They were trapped.

"Well," Indis groaned, reaching back to wrap her hands around the cool hilts of the blades crisscrossed on her back. "_That's _not good."

* * *

_A/N: "That's not good" is probably a bit of an understatement, isn't it? It's not a pretty situation to be in, that's for sure – next chapter, prepare for an epic battle with everyone's favorite crotchety Guildmaster (or least favorite, depending on how you feel about Mercer)! Also, the artwork in the cover photo for this story was a commission I had done by moonsbreath on tumblr! Go check her out, she's wonderfully sweet and talented. A huge, mega-sized, jumbo gulp thanks goes out to Child of Sithis, who has been an awesome and patient beta for this story. If you appreciate a great story that features Serana, go check out her story, **Doom Driven**._

_As always, thanks so much for reading. I truly appreciate it!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Soundtrack:**__ Cold War – Janelle Monae; Breath of Life – Florence and the Machine; Timber – Pitbull ft. Kesha_

* * *

**CHAPTER 3**

_This is bad. This is very, very bad._

Indis unsheathed her blades, stepping backwards as she squinted in the dim moonlight, searching for any sign of Mercer. The thunderous boom that had echoed throughout the large room after the gate had closed had faded away, leaving nothing but a painful, ringing silence. He was there, somewhere, and had undoubtedly seen them already. She turned, slowly rotating on her heel, the soft crunch of gravel and dirt being ground into the dusty stone floor penetrating the silence. Her eyes darted back and forth, sweeping across the stacks of crates, searching for any sign of movement. There was none.

"Where do you think he is?" Karliah whispered, backing up to join Indis. She had an arrow nocked and ready to fly, and only made eye contact for the briefest of moments. "He's here, I _know _he's here."

"Of course he's here," Indis mumbled in reply, voice trembling, fingers flexing open and closed around the hilts of her weapons. She swallowed nervously, shaking her head to toss aside the wisp of hair that had shifted and fallen across her eyes. When they had left the inn, they had held their chins high in confidence, laughing and joking all the way to Mercer's hiding place in the warehouse, so certain that they would be able to catch him off guard. It had become abundantly clear that they had been very wrong. She bit her lip and shook her head, brushing aside a stray strand of hair. _Focus_, she thought, mentally berating herself for allowing the gate that crashed down behind them to rattle her so much.

"I'm going to go and check out this end." Brynjolf's low, deep voice pulled them out of their stupor, and as soon as they had both given him a quick nod, he set off. Karliah darted away; slinking into the inky darkness, but Indis stood and stared after Brynjolf, watching the hunched figure creep forward. He was just about to pass between two large crates, when a familiar glint caught her eye. It was a tripwire, stretched across the path, ready to ensnare any poor, unsuspecting soul that failed to see it. Indis raised her hand, a choked cry emerging from deep in her throat, but it was too late.

One large boot snapped the thin wire that had been glimmering in the pale moonlight that seeped through the slats in the ceiling, and before the Nord man could react, a massive gate swung forward, slamming into him. It was a ramshackle, crudely made creation, but it got the job done just fine, and the large thief was thrown backwards. She didn't know why she was so surprised. Mercer had obviously been patiently awaiting their arrival, and it only made sense that the gate sliding shut behind them wasn't the only nasty trick that had been carefully crafted for them. Brynjolf lay on the ground, groaning and clutching at his side, and Indis backed away, resisting the urge to go to him. _No doubt that Mercer saw that, and if you run over there, you'll be a perfect target, you idiot._

She slipped into a narrow row that had been cut between a messy stack of boxes and crates, slowly sheathing her blades as she contemplated her next move. Peeking around one corner, she inhaled sharply when she saw the faintest sign of movement on a walkway that stretched above the seemingly endless pile of boxes. _Of course he's going to be up there_! She grimaced, slipping back into her hiding place, contemplating her next move. She didn't relish the idea of facing Mercer one-on-one, shutting her eyes tightly as she recalled just how skilled he was with a blade. She mouthed a silent curse, scolding herself for not bringing her bow. The pair of light, slender swords was all that she had, and all they left for her was the option of sneaking up on him from behind. After a few more seconds of mulling over her options, she held out one hand, stretching her fingers and closing her eyes.

The muffling spell was one that she had cast countless times before, but she almost found herself stamping her feet in frustration when the magicka didn't seem to come. Chalking it up to nerves, she calmed herself, focusing on the task at hand. Tendrils of pale seafoam light emerged from her palms, creeping down her body, finally swirling around her boots. She set off, still taking extra care to remain quiet, clambering up the stacks of crates, heading for the ladder that led up to the upper walkway. Once she arrived underneath it, she gave it a gentle shake to test it out, grinning to herself as she placed her foot on the first rung.

"You're going down, you rotten bastard," she whispered to herself, quickly making her way to the top with ease. Indis pulled herself up, dusted her palms off on her armor, before beginning to slowly, carefully creep down the walkway. The iron fittings and steel bars gave delicate sighs and groans with every small step, and the rotted wooden planks threatened to give out underneath her, but in spite of that, she pressed on. Her eyes narrowed, focused on the shadowy corner where she was so certain she had seen Mercer, failing to notice the soft twinkle and sparkle of blue.

Her foot barely touched the spark rune that had been cast, but that was more than enough to trigger it. The force of the rune activating sent her flying, and she slammed into the flimsy iron railing that lined the edges of the walkway. She saw bright, angry stars dance before her eyes, limbs twitching as the electric blue sizzle set them ablaze with pain. Her vision blurred and she blinked furiously, reaching for the thin iron piping of the railing that she was smashed against. Her fingers curled around the cool metal, and she was ready to heave herself upwards and back onto her feet when a large, muddied boot pressed against her chest, pushing her backwards.

"Well, well, well… I was wondering when you all would come crawling along." Mercer's voice was low and grating, with all of the gravelly, gritty harshness that she remembered so well. "I'm glad I didn't have to wait long. I was getting impatient."

He reached down, and it took only a fraction of a second for her to realize that his wriggling fingers were ready to wrap around her slim, freckled throat and give it a harsh squeeze, clearly not interested in any more chatter. The rune had knocked the wind out of her, and unsheathing her blades seemed like the most arduous task in all of Nirn. Glancing down, she realized that a very sensitive area had been left unprotected, and she wasted no time in drawing her leg back before thrusting it forward, sending her boot flying into his groin.

Mercer crumpled to his knees, low, furious curses slipping between his lips, and Indis rolled to her side, quickly scampering away. Using the wobbly railing to pull herself to her feet, she shot off towards the ladder that led to the warehouse floor. Her knees buckled, and when her legs quivered underneath her, electric jolts still shooting throughout her body, she stopped, whipping around. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to go much further without collapsing, she drew her swords, taking a deep breath as she watched the Breton stumble towards her, grateful that he still hadn't quite recovered from the blow to the area between his legs.

He drew his blades, pale moonlight flashing off of the golden metal, as he stepped out of the shadows. As he shambled forward towards her, his lip curled up into an ugly sneer, his beady eyes surveying her.

"It didn't have to end like this, you know," he finally said, his voice dropping. Silence stretched between them, and she watched his chest heave up and down, tendrils of crystalline fog billowing past his lips and into the brisk night air. "Not for you, at least. You and I could have been partners. You and I aren't all that different from each other. We could have been great," he continued, pausing to lick his lips. "There's still time for you to change your mind."

Indis gnawed on her lip before shaking her head, her mouth setting itself into a tight line. "You and I are _nothing _alike," she hissed, brandishing her swords at him.

"Well then," he replied, his voice a flat croak, his signature scowl creeping back onto his face. "It seems that you've made your choice. Let's end this quickly."

Before she could respond, he lunged forward, and the golden Dwemer blade sliced through the air, and she jumped to the side, just narrowly avoiding a sword in the gut. She flexed her fingers around her own swords, raising the pair of blades to block his next incoming blow. Her arms trembled and quaked from the force, and she was relieved when he stepped backwards to catch his breath. She recognized a window of opportunity when she was presented with it, and using every little bit of energy she had left, she attacked. She knew she wasn't strong, or large, but her small size allowed her to move quickly, and she became a whirlwind of flashing, blurred steel, slashing with the slim weapons that she had grasped firmly in each hand, and somehow, Mercer managed to counter every single blow. When she stepped forward to begin another frenzied flurry, his foot jutted out, and he hooked it around her ankle, and her feet were yanked out from underneath her, and she tumbled down. She landed flat on her back, and for the second time that night, the breath was knocked out of her. Her swords went flying to the side, and she watched as they both slid off of the walkway, falling to the warehouse floor with a clatter. She was weaponless.

Mercer loomed over her, swords raised, and in the faint light, Indis could just make out the corners of his lips that tugged upwards to form a satisfied smirk. It all seemed far too familiar; her lying injured in the dark, with Mercer hovering over her, ready to deal the final strike, and the events of Snow Veil Sanctum flashed through her mind all over again. She clenched her eyes shut, waiting for the killing blow to come, but it never did. Instead, the dull, soft thud of an arrow making contact with its target penetrated the air, and Indis' eyes flew open, and she was greeted with the sight of the Breton stumbling backwards, staring down at the arrow in the center of his chest. He made a guttural, strangled groan, turning all of his attention away from Indis, looking towards the opposite side of the warehouse. Another arrow slammed into his chest, followed by another and another, and while Mercer was distracted, Indis took the opening to scramble to her feet.

She watched him fumble about, swords slipping through his grasp, tumbling down to join her weapons on the ground below. She leaned against the railing, breath hitching in her throat as he whipped around, his attention focused on her once more. The arrows had slowed him down, and as he approached, a thought flitted across the thought of her mind, an idea on how to kill him, a simple way to end it all for good. It was a cheap move, it wasn't honorable in the slightest and she knew it, but there was a tiny part of her that felt that Mercer truly deserved a sloppy, messy, cruel death.

Before his hand could fly to the dagger strapped to his hip, Indis jumped forward, palms raised and facing outwards, and shoved as hard as she could. He stumbled back, shock obvious in his eyes, going slack-jawed as he opened his mouth to speak. The words never left his lips, and he crashed into the unstable railing behind, tearing it down as he plummeted towards the warehouse floor. A sharp crack echoed throughout the harsh, brittle air, and Indis' stomach churned and twisted itself into knots as she turned towards the ladder that led down. Her movements were stiff as she set down it, and she was surprised to find that her palms were sweaty despite the cold. She landed on the stone floor with a soft thud, and as she approached the open area where Mercer had fallen, her fists instinctively balled up. As she drew closer, she took in his twisted, contorted limbs, his motionless form, finally stopping once she reached his head. The loud pop she had heard was the sound of his skull splitting open when it had smashed into the stone floor below, and the dim light revealed that a steady crimson trickle had pooled on the floor behind him. She studied him further, and after taking in the strange, twisted angle his head was at, she realized the fall had snapped his neck as well.

"Is he…"

A soft, hopeful voice caught her attention from behind, and Indis turned to see Karliah behind her, cowl torn off to reveal expectant lavender eyes.

"He's dead," Indis sighed, standing up to join her friend.

"Oh, praise Nocturnal," Karliah breathed, reaching out for Indis' hand. The Dunmer entwined her trembling fingers with Indis', letting out another shaky sigh. "It's done. Oh, it's finally done. It's over."

"It is. This is finished." They had only been in the warehouse for _maybe _ten minutes. Months of searching, always wondering if Mercer would show up with a nasty surprise, had come to a quick and dirty culmination. She let out a shaky sigh, the tiniest part of her wondering why the fight had been so relatively simple and easy, why Mercer hadn't really put up the best fight. Indis slipped out of Karliah's grasp, fingers giving her friend a light, comforting squeeze as she moved away. She knew he was dead, there was no doubt about that, but she found herself walking forward slowly, cautiously, fingers nervous, twitching, and ready to fly up to grasp her swords, just in case. She knelt down by Mercer's body, taking care to avoid kneeling in the pool of blood that was steadily growing, trying hard to look away from the surprised eyes that were still open. Each pocket that adorned the chest of his dusty, muddied, and bloodied Guildmaster armor was opened in turn, quick deft fingers poking around. It wasn't until the fifth pocket that her fingers made contact with a cold metal, one that crackled and buzzed with a strange energy. Pulling it out, she inspected it in the moonlight, before holding it up for Karliah to see.

"Is this it?"

The Dunmer woman stepped forward, faltering slightly before accepting the key that was held out to her. "Yes, this is it," she replied quietly, voice hitching in her throat.

The sound of boots scuffing against the floor caught their attention, and they turned to see Brynjolf limping towards him, the foot he dragged behind him wiping away a thin, clean trail in the grime behind him. He settled in next to Indis, leaning against a stack of crates, his heavy, ragged breathing the only sound for several seconds. "What now?" he finally asked, his words coming out in a gasping rush.

"First, we need to get you all healed up," Karliah replied, her eyes flitting down to the hand that he had pressed against his side in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood.

"Then what?"

"Second, we need to find out how to get out of here."

"Then?"

The corners of Karliah's lips tugged upwards, and she smiled for the first time in weeks. "We go home and we share the good news with the rest of the Guild."

* * *

_A/N: Ah, thank you so much for your patience! I was planning to get this tidied up, tweaked, and posted last Tuesday, but we found out that morning that we're moving on the 19__th__, so, needless to say, getting packed up and moved became the top priority. I won't be able to post tomorrow or Tuesday, so here it is a little bit early. Updates for the rest of the month will be pretty sporadic, and after the New Year, I'm hoping to get back to the weekly Tuesday posting._

_Well, there it is! The end of Mercer Frey. That's one less issue that Indis has to worry about, and now that he's out of the way, she doesn't have any more excuses, no more distractions from her dragonborning duties! Right? Well… hopefully. That remains to be seen, huh? Next chapter, get ready for a heart-to-heart with the lovely Karliah (mention of a certain Teldryn Sero will most definitely come up), as well as some dragon-related business. On to the dragons!_

_As always, a huge thank you goes to out to my beta reader, Child of Sithis, who is absolutely wonderful for checking over my stuff to catch all of my slip-ups and for listening to me ramble about plot ideas. If you haven't checked out her story, Doom Driven, you should! Thanks so much for taking the time to read, it's always appreciated!_


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Indis leaned against the smooth, weather-beaten railing of the ship they had taken out of High Rock and closed her eyes, losing herself to the gentle swaying and rocking. She reached up with one gloved hand, pressing it to her face to protect her reddened nose from the biting cold, all the while wriggling her frozen, turgid fingers. A deckhand on patrol had been watching her curiously as soon as she had made her way above deck from the cramped, yet surprisingly cozy, cabin that she called her own. It was a crisp, windy night, and for once, the skies above the Sea of Ghosts were absolutely clear, revealing a cerulean aurora that danced and swam among the field of twinkling stars.

"Mind if I join you?" called out a soft, husky voice, and Indis turned to see Karliah approaching her with a large bottle of wine clasped in one hand. As she drew closer, Karliah shook it enticingly at her Imperial companion.

"Sure, suit yourself," Indis said, patting the worn wood next to her.

The Dunmer woman settled in next to Indis, popping the cork, sending it flying into the dark sea beyond, before taking a sip. "Something's been bothering you. Well, I _know_ what's been bothering you," she said slowly, cautiously, pausing to watch Indis' face for any sign of a reaction. "Care to talk about it?"

Indis remained silent, staring straight down at the wooden railing she had wrapped her fingers around. She refused to look up at Karliah, instead focusing on memorizing every scratch and scuff on the wood, tracing the pattern of the grain with one finger. _No, not really._

"It might help," her friend continued gently, nudging her with the bottle of wine. "This might help, too."

With a sigh, Indis took the bottle of wine, wasting no time in swilling it back. It was cheap and bitter, and it set fire to her throat, but she chugged the wretched liquid nonetheless, ignoring the burgundy dribble that trickled down her chin. "Thanks," she rasped, passing the bottle back to Karliah. "That's some nasty shit."

The Dunmer laughed, nodding in agreement. "It is. I bought a few bottles for a couple of septims each from some fellow that worked the docks. I figured we could all use a strong, stiff, drink after… well, _that_."

One of Indis' eyebrows quirked upwards, and she turned to face her companion, studying her curiously before speaking. "Speaking of _that_…," Indis paused, mulling over her next words carefully. "Do you feel as though the fight with Mercer was too easy?"

Her friend's brow crinkled, and Indis continued, wringing her hands before reaching up to rub away at the back of her neck. "It just felt as though he hardly put up a fight. I mean, there were the traps that he had set up, and he fought back, but I don't know. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was expecting a lot more. For the love of Akatosh, we're talking about _Mercer Frey_. I can't think of anyone who was more insane, or dangerous."

"So was I, to be honest," Karliah admitted, giving Indis a small, wan smile. "Not that I'm complaining, though. I'll take my victories where I can get them. It's over, and that's what's important. Perhaps Nocturnal did favor us after all," she added, slender grey fingers patting the pocket on her armor that held the Skeleton Key.

"You really think so? Well, uh, how are you holding up? What are you going to do now?"

Karliah sighed, passing off the bottle to the Imperial before leaning against the railing, propping her chin up on one tightly balled up fist. "I don't know," she replied, eyes still focused on the gentle, rolling waves of the sea that stretched out before them. "This has been going on for so long, and it's difficult to remember a time when Mercer wasn't hunting me down. What do you do when you stop running?"

"You settle down, build a new life. Maybe find a nice Dunmer man to marry," Indis teased, giving her a playful wink.

"Speaking of Dunmer men…," Karliah murmured, a smiled tugging at the corners of her lips.

Indis exhaled loudly through gritted teeth, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She _knew_ he was going to come up at some point. _Well, might as well get this over with_, she silently lamented, polishing off the last of the wine. Chucking the bottle into the churning, frothy waters, she turned to face Karliah with another groan. "You can say his name, you know. Speaking it out loud won't summon a daedra, nor will I collapse in a fit of tears. I promise," she added, giving her fellow Nightingale a weak smile.

Karliah gave an airy laugh, inquisitive lavender eyes boring into Indis. "Well, what happened? It seemed like everything was fine, and then all of a sudden he's gone, and you come back to Riften, glaring at every mention of his name, and begin sharing a bed with Thrynn. For the love of Nocturnal, what happened?"

"I… I don't really know," Indis replied, feeling a hot, humiliated flush creeping onto her cheeks as she fumbled for a response. "I thought everything was fine. There was fighting, but I thought that was a part of the arrangement, something that happened when people got married. One night, he just said that he'd had enough, that he wanted someone who was more mature, more put-together." She paused, taking a deep breath. "He said he wanted a woman, not some…" Her voice failed her, and her words came to a halt.

"Oh, Indis."

Karliah swept her up into an embrace, and Indis buried her face in her friend's shoulder, scrunching her eyes shut as soon as she felt the stinging pinpricks in the corners, the telltale sign that tears would soon follow. After several deep breaths, she stepped away. "Thanks, I needed that."

"I'm sorry, I truly am," Karliah said, resting her palm on Indis' shoulder. "I know you haven't signed the divorce papers that he had Maramal send you."

Indis scowled, a deep crease forming in her freckled brow. "How'd you find out about that?"

"Thrynn talks, Indis. I do understand if this isn't exactly something you want to continue talking about, but have you considered sending them back?"

The Imperial gnawed on her lip for a few seconds before throwing her hands up in the air. "Yes. Yes, I have. I've no idea why I haven't done it yet, though." _Maybe because you keep holding out hope that he'll come back, and everything will miraculously fix itself and be wonderful and fine._

"Maybe you should. Who knows, it might be… freeing." When Indis scowled at her, Karliah held up her hands in defense. "I'm not saying you absolutely have to do it, I'm just saying that it might be nice to have a clean break and to start anew. I'm just saying that you should consider signing them and making this whole separation final. It's been seven months, after all. There are plenty of other men who I'm sure would love to have the lovely Dragonborn at their side."

"Oh, like who?"

"Like Brynjolf," Karliah responded, her voice lowering. "I know you two have gotten a little more intimately acquainted during the past few months, and I know that he cares for you a great deal."

Indis smiled and shrugged, turning out to face the rocking, glassy sea. "Of course he cares about me. We're friends, and friends care about each other."

"That's not what I – oh, forget it," Karliah sighed, throwing her hands up into the air. "Now, come on. It's freezing out here, so let's get back inside."

* * *

Yet another empty bottle of sujamma was shoved aside, and Teldryn Sero leaned back in his chair with a loud sigh, raking his fingers through his coarse, dark mohawk. "What in the name of Azura is taking so long? Why in Oblivion has she not sent the papers back yet?" he grumbled, idly picking at the fraying edges of his armor.

"Maybe she's dead."

He sighed once again, turning to look up at his mother, who he had been living with for the past few months. He had returned to Blacklight after leaving Indis behind, and mercenary work had been dreadfully slow, leaving him precious little extra coin in his pocket. After several months of scrimping, saving, and taking every odd job he could get his hands on, it still wasn't enough, and he was given no other option other than to move back in under her roof. "I'm sure she's not dead. I'm sure she's just being a little fetcher, same as usual. I'd like to get this all taken care of."

"Why?" his mother asked with a shrug, reaching up to brush away one wiry strand of hair that had fallen into her face. She snatched up the damp rag she had been using, resuming the task of wiping down the counter she stood behind. "It's not as though you've got a line of eligible women waiting for you, and you're not exactly getting any younger. Those lines on your face are getting deeper and deeper, my son."

Teldryn responded only with a grunt, and popped the cork out of a fresh bottle. If his mother kept going, he was going to need all of the alcohol he could get. When he didn't respond, she continued. "You ruined things with Arana when you were with her, and if you don't hurry your lazy arse up, it sounds like you'll permanently ruin things with this Mero woman as well."

He gave a derisive snort and stood, snatching up one of his gauntlets from the small table he had been sitting at. "What exactly makes you think that I care about patching things up with her?"

"Because you haven't shut up about her since you arrived here," his mother replied, flashing him a knowing smirk. "You've talked about her every gods-damned minute. Now," she said, wiping her hands on the dirty apron she wore, before picking up a knife, beginning to slowly slice a tomato. "Are you going to return to Skyrim?"

Teldryn remained quiet for several seconds, before slowly turning back to face his mother. He ran one large hand down over his face, pausing to scratch at the salt and pepper stubble that lined his jaw. "Yes. I suppose I will."

* * *

Indis had tried to drift off to sleep after she and Karliah parted ways and headed to their separate cabins, but some of Karliah's words had remained with her, making it impossible to sleep. She had lain awake, tossing and turning, unable to get them out of her head.

"_Like Brynjolf… I know he cares for you a great deal."_

After a few hours of mumbling to herself and staring at the ceiling, she threw off her blankets, tugged on her boots, and quietly slipped out of her cabin. She padded softly down the dim, narrow passageway, finally stopping in front of Brynjolf's door.

She took a deep breath and raised a tightly closed fist, ready to knock.

* * *

_A/N: Hello there! Sorry it's taken me ages and ages to get an update up, oy. First moving, and then finishing up the semester, and then the holidays… all of that really messed up my writing schedule. This was just a short little filler chapter. It was all stuff that needed to happen, but I didn't want to put it into the next chapter (which actually has a lot of really important stuff going into it), because it just wouldn't have really fit in there. So, what do you think of all of this? A couple of things were hinted at, a couple more revealed, and a few... well, you'll just have to wait and see how they all turn out. ;)_

_Hopefully, I'll get the next chapter finished and posted ASAP, but it's highly likely that things are just getting back to the usual Tuesday posting. Over the coming weeks, I'm going to be posting a lot of one-shots that are gifts for some friends, so look for some new little stories from Skyrim and Dragon Age. Along with those little fics, I'm going to be working on cleaning up In the Sun, because oh my goodness, it needs some work done. So, between those two things, the next chapter might be a little late. We'll see. _

_A huge thank you to SkyrimJunkie for checking over this chapter for me, it's greatly appreciated! As always, thanks a million for reading, reviewing, and taking the time to support my story – you guys are the best._


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